


Aphrite

by ImperialMint



Series: i don't want to be that crashing wave [tumblr prompts] [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint/pseuds/ImperialMint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of a superhero is far from perfect, but Shanks knows they'll be honest. He won't wait, and Shanks won't hold back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aphrite

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [aerle](http://aerle.tumblr.com/) and for [these prompts](http://imperialmint.tumblr.com/post/88886816201/leave-a-in-my-inbox-a-character-pairing-and-ill) The theme for this one was Superhero!AU, I hope you enjoy! Feel free to prompt me as well through the link above!
> 
> This is also un-betaed so I'd appreciate any mistakes to be pointed out!

A smile was an easy thing to fake. Shanks had perfected flashing his pearly whites when he was much younger and his parents had dragged him to relatives who were insistent on prodding his arms and poking their noses into his business. His mother’s gruff advice had been to grin and bear it, avoiding family for a few months if they could.

Of course as he’d grown, Shanks had found it increasingly harder to keep a fake smile secret. He didn’t want to offend anyone, but sometimes, well, he just didn’t find stories about neighbours’ daily lives interesting or – more recently – he didn’t want to stand and pose in tight spandex for thousands of cameras.

(It should be noted that Shanks didn’t roam around cities in tight spandex for fun and his reason wasn’t for various sports. He was known as Red, one of the top four superheroes of the century – or so the tabloids had painted him. Shanks didn’t have any noble reason or tragic past, he just was what he was, fake smiles included).

“Red, tell us about your latest rescue!” Shanks smiled obnoxiously as a group of eager reporters shoved microphones at his jaw.

“I just wanted to enjoy my drink,” he said as an explanation – tonight’s altercation had been a mistake really. He’d seen it before, a cocky, drunk guy with some complex or another. Guy saunters up, tries to start a fight… but Shanks had been having none of it and by the time the guy pulled an (illegal) gun on the bar, Shanks was suited up and ready to stop him.

“Were you aware that this criminal is a member of the Blackbeard gang?” Another question, another fake smile as Shanks shook his head. Wheels were turning and he narrowed his eyes, pushing through the crowd, still smiling politely.

“I’d love to stay,” no he wouldn’t, but his anonymity relied vastly on good public opinion, “but your city needs me!”

With that, he darted off into the shadows, skirting up buildings with tools Yasopp had made for him. Shanks had learnt long ago that dramatic flair kept the rabble on their toes, and while he hated the dramatics he had to use, the crowd loved it. They didn’t have to know he planned on going to bed rather than fight crime. He had a job to do, after all, just like anyone else. He wasn’t Batman by any stretch of the imagination.

The journey home didn’t take too long and Shanks was able to empty his mind and wind down as he trawled through the back streets. No one took notice of him, except for a few mice and a scraggy looking cat, and Shanks was able to scale up his building and through a window.

“Back again Red? It’s not even midnight yet,” a deep voice said slowly and Shanks sat back on the windowsill, regarding the man sitting comfortably on a sofa in the centre of the room. Some kind of documentary about the solar system was playing on the TV and smoke rose from the man’s cigarette, the familiar smell reaching Shank’s nostrils.

There had been a problem when Shanks had donned Red’s mantle. He owned a respectable flat in a respectable area, but his flat hadn’t been on the outside of the building. The only way for Shanks to get to his home had been through the front door and it had resulted in changing suit outside in various areas trying to stay hidden. On the fourth time of being almost caught for indecent exposure, Lucky Roo had made a suggestion that Shanks had leapt upon.

Benn Beckerman was a doctor, a very good doctor at that too. He owned his own clinic and was a friend of both Yasopp and Lucky Roo. There had been a few suggestions made and Lucky Roo had returned to Shanks with an answer. He could use Benn’s house as a passageway and suit-changing area as long as he paid his way.

“Work tomorrow,” Shanks said cheerfully, taking off the mask that hid his upper head. It concealed his hair and his scars and he rubbed his forehead, skin glad to be freed. “Not all of us can set out own hours!”

Rolling his eyes, Benn stood from the sofa and put his cigarette out in a smooth movement. For a man who worked long hours with little physical movement, Benn was in peak condition. Shanks never failed to notice the good points of others and he was hardly shy to comment on it. Benn had a small gym at his clinic and used it, much to Shanks’ appreciation.

“The great Red must have time for a beer before he goes to sleep though,” Benn said and Shanks couldn’t argue with that.

“Spandex first. If I wear it any longer, my reproduction ability will be greatly hindered.” He shot Benn a grin and strode to the bedroom, heading to the drawer his clothes were kept in. He’d moved a suitcase over a few weeks ago and had yet to regret it.

His beer was waiting for him beside Benn’s ashtray and Shanks sat down gratefully, stretching his legs out to rest on the wooden table. He could practically feel Benn roll his eyes, but his legs were more important than manners right now.

“Did you eat dinner before you went gallivanting around the city?” Shanks could have ignored the concern there, but he wasn’t an idiot, no matter what his fake smile implied. They’d grown fond of each other, at the very least.

“I was washing down desert with a coffee when some idiot started on the whole place. My stomach’s full, have no fear doctor.” Shanks bobbed his head, eyes straying from constellations on the television to Benn’s jawline.

“How lovely,” Benn commented, lighting up another cigarette and settling back in his seat. He was close to Shanks, their thighs touching, and Shanks sipped out of his can with a small smirk.

“We should do dinner together one time,” he said simply and Benn turned his head, eyebrow raised and dark eyes calculating.

“I’m free on Tuesday after 6pm,” he said, turning back to the television. “You make the reservations and I’ll meet you there.”

“It won’t be too fancy,” Shanks promised, letting his leg push against Benn’s slightly, speech giving way to the science of stars and Benn’s breathing.

**.**

Shanks was late. Too late for Benn to still be at the restaurant, but that was fine because there was no way a restaurant would let him in with blood dripping over their floor. Well, the blood had dried up now, but Shanks was sure there were a few broken bones in him and he hadn’t any other clothes aside from his (ripped) spandex suit.

Thank god Yasopp had insisted on all his gadgets and Lucky Roo had insisted in testing each and every one of them out hundreds of times. Without them, Shanks wasn’t sure he’d be walking, let alone a free man.

News would no doubt later call it a gang skirmish (thankfully no one had been on scene so no one had been aware that Shanks was there), but the truth was it was a precursor to war. Blackbeard’s war, to be more specific. It had been Blackbeard himself (though Shanks knew him by a very different, very human name too) and a collection of his bulked up cowards. It had been a trap and Shanks had fallen head first.

He really did need to thank Yasopp for his ingenuity. Perhaps steal some more money from some shady gangs who needed putting in their place and give him a raise. Lucky Roo too.

It didn’t change the fact that Shanks was late, however. He hissed as he misjudged his step and scraped a wall, still hiding in back alleys. He couldn’t deal with being seen now, not by reporters and certainly not by any of Blackbeard’s scouts.

Climbing up to Benn’s window was a hard task, but it was wide open and Shanks rolled in gratefully, groaning as he hit the floor. He lay still for a few minutes, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

“You look like you’ve had a good evening,” came Benn’s voice, steady and unfazed as always. 

“Well,” Shanks managed, voice strained. “It wasn’t boring, I can tell you that.”

Shanks uncurled slightly, though he didn’t move to push himself up. Benn was in comfortable clothing, half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He’d been home for a long while and Shanks felt some tension leave his shoulders. He should have known Benn wouldn’t waste time waiting for him.

“If you get up, I’ll make you some pasta and sauce. I’ll look over your injuries too.” Benn’s disposition was stand-offish, but his eye was critical and Shanks knew there was a degree of worry.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Shanks asked as he shifted onto his knees, grabbing the windowsill tightly, pulling himself up.

“I had the salmon and I’ve added it onto your bill for the month.” Benn nodded to the kitchen and Shanks walked slowly to the table, sitting down with a sigh of relief. “I’m also charging you for any cleaning fees I’ll need after this. This is what A&E is for.”

Shanks shrugged his shoulders. “It was either reveal my identity or be done for getting my dick out. Besides, you’re the best doctor this city has! Where else would I go after fighting for my life.”

Benn had set some pasta on and brought a jar sauce out. He turned to a cupboard and pulled out a medical kit, returning to Shanks a moment later.

“If you have broken bones, you’re going to A&E after you’ve eaten,” he said simply and Shanks was about to reply when something cold and stinging splashed over some of his cuts.

Shanks remained as still as he could be while Benn cleaned him up. His suit was cut away, leaving him in tight underwear listening to pasta boil.

“I am sorry about tonight you know,” he said quietly and Benn’s hands stilled from checking Shanks’ ribs. “I was looking forward to it.”

Benn let his hands drop and he moved over to the oven, straining the pasta and mixing in the sauce. He let out a puff of smoke from a fresh cigarette as he set the bowl down and shoved at fork at Shanks.

“Your ribs are fine. Very bruised, but nothing some painkillers and rest won’t fix. Good luck explaining your injuries to your boss.” Benn sat down in the chair next to Shanks, hands resting on the table, ashtray between them.

“I’ll pretend I have food poisoning or something,” Shanks grinned, trying to get into a comfortable position as he speared pasta with a fork. “Have I blown it completely?” he asked, grin falling from his lips and voice lowering slightly.

He waited a moment before hunger gripped him, and Shanks tucked into the pasta, eyes focused on Benn’s hands. They moved up to his lips and came back down, stubbing his cigarette out with ease.

“I figured dating a superhero would be difficult,” Benn began, lips twisting around the word superhero as it if was a joke (and really, when you knew Shanks, it was a bit of a joke). “But people say dating a doctor is hard work.”

The bowl was empty and Shanks felt his heart speed up slightly. He caught Benn’s eye and a soft, true smile crossed his lips.

“It’s only going to get harder from here,” he said. He couldn’t lie to Benn, not when there were important stakes on the line. Blackbeard wasn’t going down without a fight.

“You’re probably right,” Benn agreed. “I’ll get you a key so you can come and go as you please, whether you’re Shanks or Red.” 

Benn stood and collected the dirty plates. Shanks stood shakily, feeling a little better now he wasn’t covered completely in dried blood and dirt. Perhaps he could make up some excuse about a concussion so he didn’t have to go home-

“You’re staying here tonight,” Benn supplied, as if he’d read Shanks’ mind. “We’re not having sex, but you’re still staying.”

Sex was the last thing on Shanks’ mind, but he felt incredibly happy, happier than he’d been in months. Slowly, he walked up to Benn and leant against the counter, waiting for him to finish washing up.

“I’m not the sort to wait around,” Benn said. “So if you were worried that you’d have to leave someone behind, it’s not me.”

Benn’s back was broad and his shoulders tight. Shanks understood. Being a superhero changed nothing. And if it came to it, Shanks wasn’t going to pull any stupid moves like they did in the movies. Benn was still Benn, not an extension of a superhero. He wasn’t going to perch at the window waiting for Shanks to come home.

And Shanks was glad for that.

Benn washed his hands, drying them as he turned around. His eyes were dark and wide, fixed only on Shanks.

“I’m free for lunch tomorrow,” he said, closing the distance between them. Shanks reached for him eagerly, smoothing hands over forearms and around Benn’s waist. “Swing by the clinic and I’ll check your wounds. We can go for lunch.”

Benn rested his hands on the counter, lowering his head to bump noses slightly. Shanks moved his hands up, gripping the fabric of Benn’s top as Benn kissed him softly.

“Lunch sounds good,” Shanks agreed as he pulled away, smiling as he leaned in for another, longer kiss.

**.**


End file.
